April Fool's!
by cactusnell
Summary: Sherlock's birthday is coming up. What does he plan on giving himself? Sherlolly. Based on a story idea once again supplied by INCOMPRENSIBILE. Thanks!


Dr. Molly Hooper was on her way back to the pathology lab in the basement of St. Bart's hospital late on a Tuesday afternoon thinking about the invitation she had received in the mail the previous day. It was so unexpected, she couldn't help but wonder at it. Sherlock Holmes was having a birthday party!

Sherlock had always hated parties in general, and had always refused to allow friends or colleagues to throw any such debacle in his honor. Molly could not imagine what had persuaded him to acquiesce to the forthcoming festivity, and was happy to find John Watson waiting in her office as she arrived in the lab. Perhaps he could provide some enlightenment.

"I can see by the puzzled look on your face that you have received your invitation." John was the first to speak.

"Yes. What the hell is going on, John? Have aliens kidnapped Sherlock, and replaced him a party loving cyborg?"

"By some accounts, Sherlock is already a cyborg. Which would account for some of his more bizarre behavior…"

"Yes, John, but you forget! We've seen the nicotine patches. What kind of a cyborg requires a nicotine patch?"

"Maybe they're some sort of alternative fuel source…"

Molly laughed out loud as she took a seat behind her desk, and thumped a finger down on the surprising invitation. "So, what gives?"

"I really don't have any idea. He told me it was his mum's idea. She's planning the whole thing with Mrs. Hudson, evidently. Wants to meet all his friends…"

"I hate to appear mean spirited, but 'all' his friends could fit in a small booth at Angelo's. It certainly wouldn't require that large upstairs room she's booked."

"Plenty of room for dancing? Or roller skating, even? " John chuckled. "But I get the idea that he's trying to make up for what he put his parents through when he went undercover for those two years. And Mummy wants to meet his friends. And acquaintances. See what his world is like. This must be hell for him, but he's agreed to it, so…"

"I guess the least we can do is be there for him…"

"And bring a cattle prod to control Sally Donovan!"

"We're doctors, John. I'm sure we can come up with something more subtle."

"Thinking of spiking the punch, are you?"

"I'll let you know what I come up with!"

John soon left to complete his rounds upstairs, leaving Molly to once again contemplate the unusual circumstances around the unexpected birthday party. Maybe it really was all Mrs. Holmes' idea, thought Molly. Sherlock and his brother Mycroft did seem to have mummy issues. If this was all to please her, it made sense. But something kept nagging at her about his birthday being April 1. April Fool's Day! Some people already believed that God played an enormous joke on the world when he unleashed Sherlock Holmes on it. Molly couldn't shake the feeling that Sherlock was planning to return the favor, somehow. Oh, well, only three weeks until everyone finds out!

Sherlock himself made an appearance in the morgue just one day later. Molly had not seen him in close to three weeks, and, as usual, absence had made the heart grow fonder.

"Sherlock, long time, no see. Are you looking a bit older?"

"If that is a veiled reference to my birthday party, please keep any further remarks to yourself, Dr. Hooper."

"Not looking forward to the festivities, Sherlock?"

"I see no reason to celebrate one's advancing years, Molly. The mirror gives me all the evidence I need of my degenerative process. I only wish the years had been as kind to me as they obviously have been to you."

Molly was taken aback by the compliment. Sherlock had not indicated that he needed anything at the moment, but in her experience, compliments were the currency the detective used to get what he wanted.

"Just what is it you want, Sherlock?"

"Only your assurance that you will be attending. For some reason, my parents have been very adamant on the point. They were very taken with you at your previous meetings, and wish to renew the acquaintance."

"Your parents are lovely. Friendly, kind, funny…"

"In other words, everything that I am not."

"You can be funny at times, though your humor seems to be on the macabre side…"

"This coming from a woman who cuts up corpses for a living!"

"It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it!"

"Sounds like a good premise for a television show!"

The two spent the next half hour in conversation, and Molly was amazed to find that Sherlock really required nothing further of her. This was not normal. There were times when he would show up at her flat with time to kill, driven by boredom to her door. Crap telly and takeaway food were the usual results. But this hadn't happened for a while, and Molly sometimes got the feeling that he was distancing himself. This wasn't good, she believed. He had already lost John as a roommate, his anchor to the larger world around him. If he was indeed distancing himself from his friends, perhaps this was the reason behind his mother's insistence on the coming get together. The other possibility was that old friends were being augmented, or replaced, by newer ones. Friends which she knew nothing about. She didn't like the idea that she was being replaced by a newer model, but wouldn't put it past the detective, if the newer model came with more flashy accessories!

The birthday party was now less than two weeks away, and Molly had not seen Sherlock since that day in the lab. It turned out that John had not seen much of him either. He had stopped by the flat on Baker Street to compare notes on a case that he had helped with, in preparation to writing his blog, only to find his friend actually speaking on his mobile. Sherlock texted whenever possible, so this was unusual in and of itself.

"Yes, Mummy."

"Do we have to invite them?"

"Cake? Ask Mycroft! He's the expert."

"Yes, I am absolutely sure about the flowers, Mummy. Lilies! White calla lilies."

"I don't care if they make the place look like a funeral parlor, Mummy!"

"Sorry, I have to go. John's here!"

John was trying to follow the train of the conversation. Cake? Okay, a birthday cake. Fighting over who to invite. Surely Sherlock should have the last word. It was his birthday, after all. But arguing over flowers? Why would his friend even care? Why didn't he just leave it to his mother?

"Really, mate, you're arguing over flowers? Since when do you care?"

"John, I have to put my foot down with Mummy at some point! She and Mrs. Hudson are making my life a living hell. There was a so much simpler way to do this…"

"Do what, Sherlock? Celebrate your impending old age? Yes, we could have gone to the pub, gotten pissed, and prayed for a quick death rather than waking up with hangover we deserved!"

"Sounds a lot like your bachelor party, John."

"So, how are the plans coming along?"

"Don't know, don't care," Sherlock responded, a bit too nonchalantly for John. Why argue over flowers if that were the case. The doctor was beginning to come around to his wife's way of thinking. Perhaps this was something more than a birthday party? On April Fool's Day?

"John, I wanted to ask you a favor."

"Well, you can ask. As long as it doesn't involve blood shed, grave robbing, or cross-dressing, or any combination thereof, it's as good as done!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'And Molly thinks my sense of humor is macabre!" But he soon continued. "I just wondered if I could trouble you to arrive a bit early. I may feel the need for some support. And do you think that you could bring Molly along with you? She'd be late for her own funeral…"

"That would be an appropriate remark, considering the calla lilies, Sherlock. I must agree with Mummy, they do seem a bit funereal."

"Could you just see to it that you and she, and your lovely wife, of course, arrive about an hour or so before the other guests are due?"

"Of course, if it's important to you."

"Thank you, John. It is."

April Fool's Day was getting closer and closer, and there had been fewer and fewer Sherlock sightings. Five days before the party, Molly had not seen the detective for an entire week. No popping in to the lab. No visits to her flat for crap telly and takeaway. This was the main topic of conversation when Molly met Mary Watson for lunch at Angelo's.

"So, where is the great detective?" Mary asked, quite curious.

"How should I know! I haven't seen him for a week or more. And he wasn't very communicative then."

"Do you get the feeling he's up to something?"

"A case, you mean?" Molly knew that Sherlock could become very withdrawn when his mind was occupied with a particularly puzzling problem.

"I don't think see. He hasn't asked John for help. You?"

"Not me. The last thing he asked me was if I knew that Romans used to examine pig entrails in order to find the luckiest day to marry! It seemed all the more peculiar because I was up to my elbows in human entrails at the time!" The women started to laugh together, but were interrupted when Angelo himself made an appearance at their table.

"Ladies! So good to see you! Hope you are ready for the big day."

"Granted, Angelo, it is unusual to celebrate it, but Sherlock does, after all, have a birthday every year, just like the rest of us!" Mary gibed.

"Of course, of course! But this one will be special, you'll see. Ah, the meal I have planned," here he kissed his fingertips and flicked them upward. "Lobster diavolo, Italian wedding soup, cannoli di cioccolata…"

"If that chocolate, I'm on board!" Molly giggled.

"I'm sure you will be!" Angelo smiled an enigmatic smile at the two women, and left them, humming a piece from an Italian opera to himself.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Molly was slightly taken aback.

"I told you there's something going on. Something strange. Mummy Holmes planning the whole thing. Since when does Sherlock Holmes give up control to anybody?"

"Mary, he does have some minor mother issues…"

"Minor, my bloody arse! She's planning the whole affair, according to John. Except for the flowers. Sherlock insisted on calla lilies! Funeral flowers, for god's sake. Is that some kind of macabre joke? Birth and death…"

"Hold on a bit! Calla lilies are my favorite!" Molly exclaimed, "And don't point out that it would seem only appropriate that Doctor Death has a thing for funeral flowers. That has gotten so old!"

The women went back to enjoying their lunch, and growing just a bit apprehensive about the coming gala.

It was a scant two days before the party, when Sherlock made an appearance in the morgue, looking for his pathologist, but not finding her in her office. He had just sat himself down to wait for her when his mobile rang. He quickly answered it, looking around to make certain that Molly was nowhere within earshot.

"No Mycroft, I have not told her. I have not told anyone, except those with a need to know. I want to surprise all my friends. It will be romantic."

"But Sherlock, surely it would be a kindness to inform her, to prepare her…"

"I want to see the look of surprise on her face. It is April Fool's Day!"

"What if she turns you down, brother?"

"Not a possibility!"

"You have always been a little too sure of yourself, Sherlock. And Mummy is still going on about the choice of flowers, brother!"

"It's for my bride, Mycroft. My bride! My future wife! I will brook no more arguments from you or Mummy!"

"Be it on your head, Sherlock."

"Pretty soon I'll be answering to a wife, Mycroft, not Mummy. And there will be additional benefits, as well. Perhaps you should investigate the possibility?"

The call ended with Mycroft's sputtered reply. But Sherlock Holmes was so involved in his own little world that he failed to notice the furtive movement by the office door, as Molly Hooper slipped from the shadows and out of the lab.

Molly had been privy to only half a conversation, but that half had devastated her. So that was what was going on. Sherlock had been planning a surprise wedding. But for who? John had given no indication that his best friend was involved in a relationship. He would have surely told her, hoping to let her down easy. Sherlock, on the other hand, had no such concern, even though he had known for ages how she had felt about him. But who was the this mystery bride?

Janine? Possible. They had flirted at John and Mary's wedding. They had been briefly engaged, although the detective had later told her it was for a case. No one knew how far he had carried the physical intimacy in that relationship. Maybe he had grown to care for her?

Some mysterious woman from his two year "death". Many people had remarked that he had returned a changed man. Maybe it was a woman who had changed him? And this was his way of introducing her to his friends. She would have to something special to capture the emotionally distant and sentiment challenged Sherlock Holmes!

Or Irene Adler? The Woman? She was dead, Molly fervently hoped! Those two would probably kill each other fighting for dominance. But they could possibility have a hell of a good time before their mutual demise.

But the only thing that mattered to Molly Hooper was that it wasn't her. She had come to accept her life because, deep down, she believed that Sherlock Holmes would never marry. She could picture him living alone, possibly raising bees, solving crimes, and growling at the world into an advanced age. She never thought he do something as normal as find a wife. She heaved a great sigh, wiped her eyes, and her nose, and returned to her office, only to find the detective gone.

Guests were due to arrive at Angelo's at seven o'clock in the evening, but John and Mary had promised to collect Molly for an early arrival. Just before they were to leave to pick her up, John's mobile signalled an incoming text.

SORRY. I WON'T BE ABLE TO MAKE IT TONIGHT. EMERGENCY AT ST. BART'S - MOLLY

John couldn't let this slip by a just an exchange of texts, so he immediately called Molly, who answered reluctantly.

"Molly, what the bloody hell is going on? How big an emergency can keep you from Sherlock's party?"

"A big one, John! I can't leave. There is no other pathologist available, and it's important. Save me a piece of cake!" Molly tried to sound upbeat, but wasn't succeeding. John handed the phone to his wife.

"Molly, you've found out something, haven't you? For god's sake, tell me!"

"Not a chance, Mary. Sherlock wanted it to be a surprise for everybody. I can't ruin it for you."

"Molly, why aren't you coming?"

"You'll understand once it all unfolds, Mary. You'll be very happy for him!" But Molly seemed far from happy at the moment. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Mary. Gotta go! Up to my elbow in organs!"

John Watson was looking at his wife with concern. "This is beginning to sound a bit not good, Mary."

The scene at Angelo's upstairs banquet room was a bit chaotic. Table's were set, and candles were being placed around the room. A string quartet was warming up in the corner, while Mrs. Holmes and Mrs. Hudson scurried about dealing with last minute items, which didn't really need dealing with. Sherlock and Mycroft were standing, arguing as usual, when John and Mary Watson arrived. Without Molly Hooper.

"Where's Molly? Have you forgotten Molly?" Sherlock Holmes seemed almost panic stricken, while a knowing smirk danced across Mycroft's face.

"She's not coming, Sherlock. She got tied up at the morgue and…"

Mycroft Holmes could barely contain himself. "I told you no good would come of your foolish plan, brother. You been left at the altar, by a bride who didn't even know she was a bride! A first for the Holmes family! Possibly a first for any family…"

"Do shut up, Mycroft" Sherlock had gone pale, and even his brother had a look of concern.

"Care to explain yourself, Sherlock?" John asked in a menacing voice.

"It's April Fool's Day! And my birthday! I was pulling a prank on Molly, and giving myself a gift, as well. I've arranged a wedding, I thought it would be romantic…"

"Let me get this right. Molly doesn't know anything about this?"

"No! So she couldn't really have left me at the altar if she didn't know there was an altar, right?" Sherlock was now grasping at straws.

"Oh, she knew something was up, all right," Mary interrupted. "She'd told us we'd be happy for you, and we'd understand why she couldn't come when it all happened…"

"Oh, bloody hell, this is all my fault! She overheard my phone conversation in her office. I referred to my bride. The stupid woman thinks I'm marrying someone else!"

John looked over at his wife, and smirked, "Notice how it went from 'all my fault' to 'stupid woman' in the blink of an eye. Bloody prat!"

Mycroft, seeing his brother's very real distress, and believing himself, correctly as it happened, to be the only cool head left in the group, starting giving orders. "I will dispatch minions to assure the bride's presence at the ceremony, or at least, at the venue…"

"You have minions, Mycroft?" John sounded downright envious.

"One does not achieve a minor position in the British government without acquiring such perks, Dr. Watson." Mycroft looked down his nose at his brother's best friend, and prospective best man. "Would you now be so kind as to accompany my brother over to where my mother is sitting, so that he can explain the situation to her, and assure her that I am dealing with it?"

Sherlock got even paler. "Mycroft, no! Don't make me tell Mummy!"

"Well. I'm certainly not going to do it, brother. I am not afraid to say she scares the bloody hell out of me!"

Mycroft then turned to his personal assistant, and spoke in a commanding tone, "Anthea, I am assuming that the bride will arrive in scrubs and a lab coat, possible splattered with blood, and great big puffy eyes. Please take Mrs. Watson with you to the staging area and prepare."

Having dispatched the troops, Mycroft Holmes stood tall, with an air of smug superiority. He would make sure this wedding came off with no more glitches. For if it didn't who knows where Mummy's eyes may turn for the next victim?

Two men in dark suits walked the basement hallway, on their way to the morgue, approaching their target with great care.

"Dr. Molly Hooper?" said the tall one.

"Yes?" Molly replied hesitantly.

"You are to accompany us.," said the taller one.

"I can't leave now…"

"Your shift is being covered. All arrangements have been made."

When Molly did not immediately drop the scalpel and acquiesce to their request, they approached, one on either side, and placing a hand under each arm, lifted her and carried her from the lab, her feet unconsciously making stepping motions in the air.

"Mycroft Holmes!" she bellowed, as she was virtually kidnapped from her own lab.

The ride through the crowded streets to Angelo's went surprisingly quickly. It did seem a bit strange, but every traffic signal seemed to be in their favor. There was dead silence in the car, and Molly grew more and more apprehensive the closer they got. She was not dressed for any occasion, other than an autopsy, so what the bloody hell did Mycroft think he was accomplishing by kidnapping her?

Molly was not at all surprised to find the elder Holmes brother waiting at the curb when the car glided to a halt. He opened the door graciously, and offered her a hand, which she refused, glaring at him.

"Why, Mycroft? Why wasn't I left in peace among the cadavers?"

"Dr. Hooper, this conversation will go a lot better if we both accept the premise, from the very beginning, that my brother is a complete idiot." She nodded slightly. "Now, he would like to speak to you. Do I have your word that you have no weapons on you? No scalpels? Bonesaws?"

Molly squeaked a negative reply, and the minions once again scooped her up to deliver her to the men's loo on the second floor of the restaurant, occupied only by Sherlock Holmes.

"Molly, so glad you could make it after all."

Molly just glared, wishing she had, indeed, thought to hide a scalpel on her person.

"Molly, let me explain something…"

"About what, Sherlock? Your 'birthday party'?"

"Ah, it is really my birthday, after all… 

"Yes. April Fool's Day. How appropriate!"

"Well, one of us has certainly been more than a bit foolish…"

"Why didn't you tell me? I thought we were friends. What did you think I'd do, try to kill her? Although I probably could get away with it, if I was that kind of person. Untraceable poison, wounds made to look accidental? Faked suicide? You, above everyone, ought to know I could do that!..."

"Molly, do stop being stupid! So you found out about the wedding. Why did you stop deducing at that point?"

Molly continued to glare.

"What's your favorite food Molly? Which you seldom indulge in because it is so expensive?"

"Lobster."

"Favorite dessert?"

"Anything with chocolate. You know that! Where is this going, you git? Trying to buy me off with a good meal?"

"You see, but you do not observe! One last question. Favorite flower?"

"Calla lilies…"

"Ah! Now what do you deduce?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Molly said slowly. "I deduce that if I am correct, the wedding supper will be delicious, but I'm going to make your honeymoon a living hell, Sherlock Holmes!"

"I'm so sorry," Sherlock said as he gathered her in his arms, "It was meant as a surprise. I was trying to be romantic. I'm really not good at this stuff…"

"You're really not, you know!"

"But how could you be so stupid to think that I could possibly marry anyone else? Or, for that matter, that anyone else would marry me!"

Molly looked down at her soiled lab coat, and let out a small giggle, "At least, it's white! Almost!"

"Not to worry. Everything is taken care of…"

"Meaning Mycroft has handled things…"

"And Mummy. Never underestimate Mummy."

"I'm sure she was a great help..."

"No. I mean it. Never. Underestimate. Mummy. That could be dangerous." With those words, Molly began to have Mummy issues of her own!

"Mycroft has obtained a special license, without your signature…"

"How?"

"I assume he dispatched some minions. I understand you've met them? Nice chaps. Not very talkative, but very persuasive, nonetheless. Mycroft will perform the ceremony. You'd better get a move on. Mary and Anthea are waiting for you." Sherlock didn't really think it necessary to inform her that the two women waiting impatiently for her were a former hitwoman and a martial arts trained government agent. Some things are better left unsaid, after all. But he did think it best to hurry her along. Still, as she moved away from him, he took her in his arms once again, and kissed her just the way she had always dreamed of. He had one more thing which he had to tell her.

"Molly, I've always been afraid that I could not make you happy. I am just so glad that I am no longer afraid to try." Molly hugged him tighter to her, and whispered, "You've already made me happy, Sherlock. It only gets easier from this point on!"

_Maybe he could salvage the honeymoon after all_, he thought as she melted into him with a happy sigh.


End file.
